You're a Pain in My Ear?
by amandajbruce
Summary: In which Lilly and Oliver watch a "Zombie High" marathon, kind of. In chapter two, Lilly blames Oliver for her own misfortune. Now complete.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: This started out as just a random thought when I was suffering through an ear infection. When I got an infection in the other ear the next week, I actually started writing it, although it was mainly random bits of dialogue strung together. I found it the other day and decided to finish it. The story doesn't really have a point. It was just me inflicting my own pain on poor Oliver. I guess this would have to occur sometime in the first season before Jake Ryan makes his appearance at their school. Enjoy!

You're A Pain In My… Ear?

One foot caught on the edge of a chair in the dining room. It knocked into the table and the mail toppled from its spot and scattered across the floor.

"Oliver, would you hold still?!"

"No way! What part of stabbing pain did you not understand?"

There was an attempt at a tackle, but it was unsuccessful. She caught his shirt with one hand, but he managed to twist out of her grasp.

"Stop squirming!"

"Stop chasing me, Lilly, and I won't have to squirm!"

A lamp wobbled on a table, but it managed to stop just short of falling. Both of their faces were flushed, and they were both trying to catch their breath.

"Stop being such a baby!"

"But, it hurts."

Blue eyes locked with brown across the Okens' coffee table. Lilly Truscott was on a mission, and Oliver Oken was being anything but cooperative. After being chased from the dining room to the living room, Oliver had managed to get the coffee table between them, thinking he would now have the advantage.

"Your mom told me to make sure you put these drops in at four! It's five after," the blond girl told her best friend while contemplating diving across the table to attempt to grab him again. The table was not that big, but her legs were not all that long either, and she was still a little winded from her failed efforts.

"I don't think she meant you could try to kill me," Oliver told her, sucking in air.

"I believe her words were, use any means necessary," Lilly deadpanned.

"She's nuts. My ear feels a lot better, see?" To make his point, the teenage boy touched his right ear gingerly with his index finger, but he could not hide the wince of pain that followed. Lilly's blue eyes rolled. She knew just how bad an ear ache could hurt.

"Look, I know the drops hurt, but it makes you get better faster. That's the whole point of using medicine!" She informed him shortly.

"I'm fine, really." He was trying to edge his way to one end of the table, hoping to put some more distance between his ear and the girl holding the bottle of antibiotic ear drops in her hand.

"You're fine?" she questioned him. "Well, I guess that means you're okay with having to keep showering with earplugs in, no swimming or surfing, possibly losing your hearing…" Lilly said this while taking half a step closer to him.

"What?"

"See, it already started." She smirked at his confusion. She had him right where she wanted him.

"I can really lose my hearing?" Oliver looked a little panicked now.

"What do you think happens if you don't treat an ear infection?" Lilly asked incredulously.

"Nothing?" Oliver was hopeful, giving her a small smile.

"So, when your ear canal started to swell shut, that didn't give you any warning?"

"Not really, no."

The tones of an old Hannah Montana song blasted from Lilly's back pocket and she wrenched her phone out in frustration. "Miley, I'm a little busy right now," she said into the mouth piece. Oliver had no idea what Miley's response actually was, but it was likely something to do with questioning why Lilly was too busy to talk to her right now.

"She's torturing me!" he yelled over whatever Lilly's reply was.

"His mom told me to." Her eyes flicked over to Oliver. "Yeah, his dad's home, but I think he's showering. He's supposed to be going to a meeting." Oliver started to take another step away, but Lilly mirrored his movements.

"This isn't fair," he choked out as he almost tripped over his History book, kicking it under the table.

"Miley, really, I need both hands. Good luck at the concert tonight. Yes, If I kill Oliver, I'll make sure you get his Cds." Lilly hung up from the call and slowly placed her phone on the table, taking a step closer to it in the process.

"You aren't going to kill me. That would just be mean. I'm your best friend." Oliver put a hand to his chest as though in pain, but Lilly responded with another eye roll.

"Right, I'm tired of this."

Before Oliver understood what his best friend meant, she took a flying leap and pinned him to the couch. After a brief struggle, in which Lilly threatened to make sure Oliver could never have children, she managed to get him onto his left side, but he kept bringing one of his hands up to cover his right ear, ruffling his shaggy brown hair to push it over the opening.

"If you don't stop that, I'm going to have to bite you," she threatened.

One of Lilly's hands held the bottle, and her other was busy making sure his left arm stayed out of the way. Kicking was out of the question; she needed to stay balanced. Besides, she knew if she refrained from kicking him, Oliver would not fight back too much. She knew he could probably shove her off of him and onto the floor if he was really trying. He had not tried to really fight back though since about the fourth grade, at least not physically. Just as she was leaning her head down to bite the hand he refused to move, Mr. Oken came down the stairs in a shirt and tie.

"Dad! Will you please tell Lilly she's insane?" Oliver called to him from his position below Lilly on the couch. After he did, he realized what they must look like, and hurried to say, "She's trying to put that stuff in my ear. Stop her!"

Mr. Oken raised one eyebrow, but he did not seem to find it odd that a fourteen year old girl was almost straddling his son on the living room couch. She straightened up a little at the eyebrow raise, but made sure to keep Oliver's one arm down. Mr. Oken half smiled, then said, "your mom said they needed to go in at four. I have to go. I'm going to be late." He turned to go out the door, then made sure to add, "don't break any bones though, okay, Lilly?"

"Sure think Mr. O. By the way, nice tie." She resumed the struggle with Oliver and repeated her warning about biting him when the door shut.

"You wouldn't - Ow!" Oliver yanked his hand away in surprise. "You actually bit me!" He should have known. Lilly never made idle threats. She did not believe in bluffing during a fight, only during poker. And she always fought dirty.

"Don't move!" she ordered, and he decided to risk the pain rather than lose a finger. Lilly squeezed three drops from the bottle before she climbed off of him. She set the bottle back down on the table, grabbed the remote, and casually sat at the other end of the couch.

Oliver laid there in shock for a minute, processing what just happened to him. Lilly had just held him down on his own couch, and then she bit him!

"Are you crazy?" he asked her angrily, sitting up and grabbing a tissue to put to his ear for the fluid he was sure would be leaking out. "You bit me!"

"I told you I would," Lilly responded calmly. "You were wasting time. We're missing the first episode of the "Zombie High" marathon. Six hours, 12 episodes, remember?"

"Great. It'll be over just in time for me to be tortured again." Oliver was glaring at the bottle on the table as if it were the sole source of his pain. He was seriously considering taking out his annoyance on the girl next to him though.

"It'll all be over in a week." Lilly kept flicking through channels. She knew the marathon started at four, she just had to find it.

"A week?" Oliver's voice went up a notch while she went passed a baseball game, an entertainment news show, and some sort of reality program where contestants were eating earthworms.

"Yeah. That's how long you use the drops, right?"

"How is it you know so much about ear infections anyway?" Oliver turned his attention from the rapid flashing of images on the screen back to the blond.

"You remember that summer we learned how to surf?" She asked him. Oliver nodded when she turned to look at him. "I had three that summer. First one ear, then the other, then back again. Now that was torture." Lilly shook her head as though trying to get water out of her ears now.

"You never told me that. We were in the water, like, everyday." He seemed shocked, but Lilly's next response should not have surprised him.

"I was learning how to surf with a bunch of boys. I didn't want to look like a little girl," she said. She shifted her attention to the television again. Oliver almost looked proud of her, and it was a little unnerving. "Besides, I'm pretty sure the third one was Todd's fault anyway. He kept telling me salt water would help the infection go away, and I was stupid and listened to him."

"Yeah, that sounds like Todd."

Lilly passed a cartoon about what looked like some sort of alien, a news segment on lettuce, a talk show with another washed out celebrity, and then landed on an episode of "Friends." She started laughing uncontrollably as she watched the group pin Rachel down and put drops in her eyes.

"Wow. Even Rachel is stronger than you. It took all of them to put her drops in." She said it sarcastically, and she knew it was a cheap shot, maybe even a bit lame, but she also knew Oliver would have a comeback ready for her.

"You're just freakishly strong for a girl." He told her while sinking in to the other end of the couch and propping his feet up on the table.

"Would you really want a wimp for a friend anyway? Now, you don't have to worry about me helping you in a fight." She smiled at him until he grinned back at her, then resumed the channel surfing.

Lilly scrolled through a singing competition, a home make over, and a little girl with a poodle before she saw a trendy teenage boy in a bathroom stall with an equally trendy looking zombie.

"Ha! Found it!" She yelled triumphantly, and then ignored Oliver's muttering of "finally." The two of them sat in silence until the first commercial break.

The first advertisement they saw happened to be for a beach side bakery. Lilly glanced over at Oliver with her eyebrows raised.

"They're in the kitchen," was his response to the question she did not have to ask.

"Your mom must really like me. She always has my favorite stuff waiting." Lilly bounced off the couch and out of the living room.

"Yeah. She says you're her favorite child."

"Of course I'm her favorite. I always listen to her," Lilly called as a cabinet slammed shut. She could not hear the scoff from Oliver that followed, but she knew it was there, so she added, "don't be jealous, just because your mom loves me more doesn't mean she doesn't love you too."

Oliver chose to ignore her and instead called, "hey, can you bring me something to drink?"

"I didn't think there was anything wrong with your legs," She yelled back.

"What? Sorry. Shooting pain. Couldn't hear you." Oliver grinned at her when Lilly returned with two glasses of milk and a plate of Mrs. Oken's dark chocolate and caramel brownies. "Look at that. Such balance. You should be a waitress," he told her while taking his glass of milk.

"Yeah, yeah. It's at the top of my list. It's definitely above accountant anyway." She plopped back down next to him and waited for the show to come back on.

"Your dad still thinks you're going to be a math whiz? Has he met you?" He swiped a brownie from the plate.

"Hey, I'm not bad with money and stuff, just the weird formulas and all the shapes, and you know, some of the algebra…"

Half way into the marathon, Lilly was completely absorbed in the life of the high school boy trying to save the world from evil zombies, and Oliver was trying to explain to his little brother why being a zombie slayer was the best job in the world. Oliver's mother had brought the youngest Oken home just as the fifth episode started. Oliver's brother still believed their mom had the coolest job. Refusing to be swayed, he kept saying that he wanted to be a police officer when he grew up too, especially since zombies were not real.

"What if they were? We would need a good zombie slayer," Oliver tried to reason.

"But Mom gets to drive her own car, and she has a special badge, and handcuffs, and everything."

"She doesn't have a magic bathroom with a portal to the underworld though, does she?" He asked the nine year old.

"If I did, I would sell tickets," Mrs. Oken said, walking into the room.

"Me too. Quick cash," Lilly agreed chuckling. "I think I'd rather be the sidekick though, I mean, if he wasn't a dog. Less dangerous."

"You just want to be the zombie slayer's girlfriend," Oliver put in. His eyes narrowed as he thought about that. "Which would make you the damsel in distress and he'd have to save you every week."

"I don't think Lilly could be the damsel in distress if her life depended on it." Mrs. Oken laughed. "I'm going to order Chinese for dinner. Any requests?" she went on, picking up the phone from a side table.

"Probably moo shu pork," Oliver told her. Lilly nodded absentmindedly as she watched the boy on the TV screen.

"I already know what Lilly likes. Do you guys want anything specific?"

"Nah. Anything's fine." Oliver's eyes were now glued to an elaborate fight sequence that involved the lead actor brushing his hair out of his eyes more than doing any actual fighting. "Lilly, you're staying for dinner, right?" he asked her.

"Mmm… sure, if that's okay." There was a pause. "Doesn't he look great when he fights? And he has such great hair." Lilly sighed, a dreamy expression on her face. Oliver cleared his throat, and she started. "Oh, I should probably call my mom and let her know I'm still here," she said faintly, her cheeks pink. Her hand froze half way to her phone, and she flinched as a zombie was shoved head first into a toilet.

"Ouch," she and Oliver said in unison.

"Jinx," Lilly muttered.

"Yeah, I owe you a coke. What else is new?" Oliver responded as they watched another member of the undead be lead to the bathroom.

"Okay, that's enough. Do something constructive." Mrs. Oken turned the TV off.

"Mom! There are still six episodes left!" Oliver protested.

"It's not like you haven't already seen them. Do some homework or something. I don't want your brother watching all that violence." Mrs. Oken pointed the remote at Oliver in warning and went to go order the food.

"Man, I'm going to go play with Trevor." The brother she had referred to scampered off with Lilly's eyes following him out of the room.

"Who's Trevor?" she asked Oliver.

"His new turtle."

"Do turtles play with you?"

"Not so much. Trevor tends to hide in his shell whenever anybody comes near the tank. I don't think he likes living with the Okens yet."

Lilly giggled while Oliver grabbed his History text book from the floor under the table. He started to turn to the chapter they were supposed to have read by Monday.

"You want to finish watching the marathon at my house?" Lilly asked before he could pretend to start reading.

"Yes, please." Oliver and Lilly got up and walked toward the front door, but their attempt at an escape did not last long.

"Don't even think of going to watch TV at Lilly's either!" The two of them heard his mother's voice from the kitchen. Oliver groaned.

"How does she do that?" Lilly whispered.

"Training," Oliver responded dryly. He looked at Lilly pleadingly. She had continued to walk to the door when he stopped and she had turned to face him.

"What?" she asked innocently. "I don't even live here. I should probably get going."

"You might as well live here."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"She makes your favorite foods before mine."

"Psshh. Only when she knows I'm coming over."

"My dad still has that coffee cup you made him two years ago. The one I made has conveniently vanished."

"That's cause your's was ugly. And my dad doesn't drink coffee, so what was I supposed to do with it?"

"Lil-lee," Oliver started to whine, then thought better of it. He decided to change tactics. "You were already invited for dinner," he reminded her, taking her bag from its place by the front entrance, stepping in front of her.

"Fine. I'll stay and study with you this time… even though I'll be missing out on the amazing Jake Ryan and his zombie slaying muscles." On his walk back to the couch, Oliver's back stiffened and he dropped Lilly's bag by the table. She did not notice. "I still get the moo shu pork." She told him.

"Deal," he said. "But since you're here, can we do Spanish first? I don't understand the story we had to read, so I kind of made up my essay."

"Why are you even taking Spanish? You never understand anything!" Lilly exclaimed while she searched through her bag for the information on the assignment.

"My dad wanted me to take a language before we go to high school. He thought it would be easier."

The two of them plopped back down in their seats.

"Guess he was wrong," Lilly remarked.

"Yeah. Guess neither of our dad's know us very well." Oliver picked up Lilly's cell phone from his end of the table. "Don't forget to call your mom." He handed her his assignment with the phone.

She almost went cross eyed trying to read it.

"Do you pay attention to grammar at all?"

"Does grammar pay attention to me?"

She sighed. "I'll fix this for you if I get the pork, the soda you still owe me, and I get to put in your ear drops in three hours. It was good exercise." She dialed her mom's number.

"You are a cruel, cruel, friend, but I'll take it." Oliver grimaced. He had a feeling he would regret this. "Are you going to tackle me again?" He could feel the blood rushing to his face at the thought, and he tried to force the inappropriate thoughts the sentence led to out of his mind.

"Nah. I'll get your mom to hold you down," Lilly told him, a small smile playing on her face.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: The story was supposed to be a one shot, but I thought this actually worked pretty well as a companion to "You're a Pain in My… Ear?" so it became the second, and last, chapter. It takes place a few weeks after the previous chapter, and the injury Lilly faked to talk to Miley is the one at the end of the episode "Mascot Love." I know that Emily Osment probably didn't realize she limped on one foot, then put the other on the table, but I decided she faked it to leave the game early, and just didn't want Miley to know.

Chapter Two

"This is all your fault!"

"My fault? How is this my fault?"

"It was your bright idea to fake my twisted ankle last week so I could leave the game early and talk to Miley. I think it's actually sprained! It's karma! And it's all your fault!" Lilly punctuated each statement with a smack to her friend's ribs. She belated realized her actions were not in her best interest when she found herself awkwardly hobbling down the sidewalk without Oliver holding her up.

"What did I tell you yesterday? I am not a piñata! No matter how many times you hit me, candy is not going to come out of my ears!" Oliver yelped when Lilly took a step toward him, but immediately moved to catch her when her left ankle gave out again.

"I don't know. You had all kinds of gunk coming out of your ears for a while. Maybe I could get candy." Oliver moved to let her go, but Lilly clung to one of his arms.

"Nails!" He reminded her sharply, trying to disconnect her fingertips from his arm. "And that was because of the infection. Nothing's been coming out of my ear for over a week now."

"Good to know. Okay," Lilly grunted with the effort of staying upright. "I'll be nice. Just help me get home."

"How long is the nice going to last?" Oliver teased her. If his arm had not returned to its earlier position around her waist, keeping her from falling over, she would have been tempted to hit him again.

"At least until you get me home. And on the couch. Possibly with an ice pack?" Lilly turned her head and gave him her most hopeful look.

"Do you have any leftovers from last night's dinner?" Oliver questioned shrewdly.

"Lasagna."

"Dessert?"

"There might be ice cream in the freezer," Lilly told him through gritted teeth.

"Alright, let's go, limpy." Oliver pulled her arm around his shoulders and helped her down the sidewalk. After four blocks, they were both panting, but they were turning on to their street. "You couldn't have decided to hurt yourself on a day when we didn't have to walk home from school carrying all of our crap with us?" He grumbled as they hobbled along.

"It wasn't a decision! Besides, I like to go all out for injuries… I guess it's good we were more than half way home when I did that cartwheel," Lilly said, pausing for a second to give Oliver a break. His response was a groan, and he pulled her along instead of taking the offered rest.

Five grueling minutes and a couple of close calls with sidewalk cracks later, Lilly was attempting to hop up the front steps to her house on her good foot, while Oliver unlocked the door with the keys she threw at him. She only managed to get up three of the five steps by the time Oliver had the door opened with their bags tossed inside. Lilly gripped the side railing and hopped up to the next step, but her foot caught on the edge.

"Oliver!" She yelped as she felt herself pitch forward. He moved to help her, but only succeeded in pulling both of them down on to the porch. Sprawled across him, Lilly elbowed him in the shoulder in her effort to roll away. Trying to help, Oliver managed to hit her in the shoulder.

"Ow," they both muttered.

"You have sharp elbows," Oliver remarked after they had lain on her porch for a few minutes. For some reason, it was the first thing that popped into his head, and he inwardly cursed his own stupidity.

"Sorry," Lilly whispered. "Help me up?" He stood and awkwardly pulled her on to her feet. She hopped through the doorway on her own and made her way to the couch.

"I guess this means you won't be able to cheer at the game tomorrow, huh?" Oliver asked as he walked to the kitchen. Lilly stretched herself out on the full length of the sofa, carefully extending her legs.

"Coach is going to kill me!"

"So they do the routines down one person, what's the big deal?"

Lilly rolled her eyes and answered, "I'm in the middle of the pyramid."

"Ah." Her friend came back into the room and placed the ice he wrapped in a hand towel on her ankle. "I can see where that could be a problem. We can't have a lopsided pyramid… Hey, maybe Pirate Pete could stand in for you." Oliver smirked at her, and she made a move to kick him with her good leg, but he caught her foot in mid air and held on tight.

"You are not using my injury as an excuse to look up some poor girls skirt!"

"It's not like you all don't wear shorts under the skirts anyway."

Lilly tried to twist her leg out of his grasp, but ended up putting more pressure on the foot she had under ice. Oliver immediately let go of her leg when he heard the sharp intake of breath and saw her try to hide the wince that followed.

"Don't you know you're supposed to elevate it?" Oliver chastised her and moved to put a pillow under her foot.

"I know!" She snapped. "I was more concerned about sitting down!" Lilly paused, then let out a long sigh. "Thanks. For helping."

"Eh, that's what I'm here for." He brushed off the gratitude and perched on the arm of the couch by her feet. "What kind of friend would I be if I just left you on the side of the road? Especially since you seem to think this is all my fault."

"One who would probably be running down the street screaming while I threw rocks at him," Lilly joked.

"I don't think I would be running," Oliver replied. "Your aim isn't that good," he added sarcastically.

"If you left me on the side of the road with a bad ankle, you'd better be running. I'm pretty sure I'd hit you more than once. I've always had better aim than you." Though she sounded annoyed, Lilly nudged his leg playfully with her right shoe to let him know she was kidding.

"Okay, maybe once," he conceded, smiling. "But what if I was running to get help?" He nodded his head, but Lilly shook hers. She sat up and began to attempt to remove her shoes and socks. The right was no problem.

"Ow! Ow! Ow!" Lilly was barely able to get the left off, and she collapsed back on to the couch. "Oliver?" she asked.

"Not touching your stinky sock," he told her.

"My socks don't stink! I don't have boy feet."

"So you say."

"I scraped gum out of the mascot head for you."

"And I gave you a plan to go talk to Miley. We're even."

"Ugh. So not the same."

"Besides, you said if I stopped asking, you would give me a cheerleader's number, and you never did!"

"Yes, I did." She chuckled at that.

"Yours doesn't count. I've had that since I was five."

The responses were rapid fire. No one could say the two friends failed to think on their feet.

"I'll do your Spanish homework next week."

"Done."

"Just don't tell Miley. She'll give you the 'cheaters never prosper' speech." Lilly shut her eyes when she felt Oliver's fingers start to peel her sock down, and she grit her teeth, readying herself for the pain, but was surprised when it did not hurt as badly as she anticipated. Her eyes popped open. "How'd you do that?"

"Practice. When I hurt my foot playing basketball last year." Oliver scrunched his nose up and tossed Lilly's sock on to the floor.

"Oh my God! You don't think I broke anything, do you?" Lilly's voice rose an octave and she tried to sit up and examine her foot again. Oliver smacked her hands away from her ankle and put the ice she kept moving back in place.

"I'm sure you'll be fine." He ignored the panic beginning to show on her face, and continued, "You'll just need to stay off your feet for a week or so."

Lilly did not fail to see the irony in the situation. Only a few weeks ago she was the one telling Oliver it would take a week for his ear infection to disappear, and here he was doing the same for her injured ankle. It was all ridiculous. She muttered something under her breath that contained the words stupid and boys, but Oliver could not understand all of it.

"What was that? I thought you said you were going to be nice."

"Nice ended with the ice pack, remember?" she grumbled.

"In that case, scoot back, so I can actually sit on the couch." Oliver made a move to slide from the arm on to the cushions, but Lilly refused to move her foot.

"You can sit in the chair." She pointed to an overstuffed armchair that looked as though it had been in the living room longer than Lilly and Oliver had even been alive.

"I am not touching the chair your dog likes to throw up on." There was a pause while he remembered the dog. "Where is Thor?" He looked around the room, realizing for the first time that no canine had run up to Lilly, barking a greeting when they came in the door.

"My mom took him to the vet this morning on her way to work." She still would not move her foot. Oliver reached for the remote to the television and slid further down the arm, a little closer to Lilly.

"What did he eat this time?"

"Some lasagna that my brother dropped on the floor, part of my mom's check book, and she thinks he might have swallowed her wedding ring." Lilly sighed and laid her head back against a pillow. "She hasn't been able to find it since she threw it at my dad on Monday."

"How's that going?" Oliver asked softly.

"A lot better since he got his own apartment. They just have to finalize the paperwork, and then they won't be married anymore. Of course, it would probably go even easier if every time he tried to redo the settlement or whatever it is, she didn't crumble it up and throw it at his head across the table. I think his lawyer's starting to get annoyed." She shook her head.

Oliver was quiet for a minute, then to lighten the mood, he remarked, "you Truscott women sure like to throw things at guys."

Lilly gripped the pillow behind her head in preparation to do just that, then realized what his statement implied. He cheeks colored, and she crossed her arms in a huff.

"Just for that, I'm really not moving."

Oliver chuckled and picked her legs up, pushing the pillow to the side so he could slide underneath said legs.

"I was kidding," he told her while carefully arranging her feet in his lap. "I'll bring you the crutches I used last year, if you want."

"Thanks."

Oliver began flicking through channels and the two sat in companionable silence for over an hour before Oliver remembered Lilly's promise of lasagna. He ended up eating half of the leftovers and they polished off the pint of mint chocolate chip ice cream in the freezer while watching reruns of "Golden Girls" and "Murder, She Wrote."

"Why are we watching the channel that only advertises denture cream and arthritis medication? Isn't there something else on? Maybe an episode of 'Zombie High' or something?" Lilly started trying to tap her right foot impatiently, forgetting that her legs were back across Oliver's lap.

"Lilly, stop that. You are such a pain." He tried to keep her feet still without hurting her. "What's wrong with 'Golden Girls'; This show is right up your alley. If you were sixty, you would make the same jokes."

"But they're all so old." There was a pause, and then Lilly smiled, asking, "have you been watching TV with your grandma again?"

"Grandma has good taste," Oliver told her defensively.

When she heard Rose lamenting the death of a friend's dog, who died because he attempted to do his business on an electrified fence, she had to admit that Oliver's grandmother's taste was not all that bad. Especially since the dog's name happened to be Sparky. Oh, the irony.

Lilly gave in and decided to let Oliver leave the "grandma channel" on. After three episodes of the four women living in 1980s Miami, she was laughing along with him.

When Heather Truscott came home a while later, just after the sun went down, Lilly's younger brother and the family dog in tow, she was surprised to see her daughter asleep on the couch with a boy. None of the lights were on, and she very quietly came further in to the living room. Neither of the teenagers stirred.

"You guys must have had a long day," she said loudly, turning on the light. Thor barked in response to the sudden light.

Oliver was so startled he jumped off the couch, completely forgetting that Lilly's legs were draped across his own. She landed on the floor with a thud and a sharp cry.

"Lilly, I'm so sorry!" Oliver moved to help her back up, but she angrily and sleepily waved him off.

"Hi, Mom," she said from the floor. Her little brother giggled and ran up the stairs.

Oliver looked at Mrs. Truscott apprehensively. If she did not look so annoyed, he would have been taking the time to notice that her bright red blouse fit her in all the right places and her charcoal pencil skirt was just the right length to show off her toned legs. These thoughts though were pushed to the back of his mind since he could now easily recognize when a Truscott was in a bad mood. Lilly had given him enough practice in that.

Mrs. Truscott's eyebrows were raised, her lips were pursed, and one of her hands was resting on a hip. She inquired as to what exactly Lilly and Oliver thought they were doing.

"I was watching Jessica Fletcher solve another mystery. I think she," Oliver's thumb jerked in Lilly's direction, "was sleeping." He had hoped an attempt at humor would work. It always worked on Lilly. Well, not always, but most of the time he found it successful. He stuck his hands in his pockets when the expression on Mrs. Truscott's face did not change. He turned to Lilly, his face now almost as red as her mother's blouse, and said, "I'm going to run home and get you those crutches." He grabbed his backpack and hurried out the door, not meeting the eyes of his best friend's mother as he went. Lilly found the entire thing a lot more amusing than he did.

"Crutches?" Mrs. Truscott asked her daughter, the evident bad mood briefly laced with concern.

"I think I just twisted my ankle. It's all Oliver's fault though." She smirked at her mother from her spot between the couch and the coffee table, wondering what her mother would have made of that if she had not added, "he didn't believe I could do five cartwheels in a row." Lilly shrugged her shoulders, then thought aloud, "I guess technically he was right."

"Oh, Lilly," her mother rolled her eyes in a way Lilly knew Oliver would also describe as one of the traits of the Truscott women, but the bad mood was starting to fade. "I don't think you should be alone in dark rooms with boys." It seemed to be the only response she could come up with, and she made her voice even more stern in an effort to get her point across.

Lilly burst in to laughter and could feel a bit of heat rising to her cheeks for the second time that evening. She ignored the blush to say, "Mom, he isn't a boy; he's Oliver."


End file.
